Slipping Away
by sarbear2255
Summary: "No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear" Tragedy has fallen on Victoria, and her father won't let her forget it. How is she supposed to move on?
1. Prologue

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

**A/N: I don't own Cats, I'm sure that's a surprise!**

A large, portly black tomcat sat on a luxurious satin cushion. He was almost completely black with a white bib and paws. His paws looked like gloves and spats, giving the tom a refined look. He buried his white face into his gloved paws and shook his head. It was clear that the middle-aged tom was trying to keep a torrent of emotion stifled inside.

The scene of the makeshift den inside the abandoned vacation home could not easily be interpreted.

Sitting directly across from the hefty, tuxedoed tom sat a smaller, more muscular tabby tom. This cat was a steel gray with black stripes and hard silver eyes. The smaller cat was much younger and his muscles were well defined beneath his groomed pelt. He leaned forward, his black paws resting delicately on another elegant pillow. His intense gaze intently stared at the older tom as if he could pierce through the white paws.

A ways away, in another room sat a fair white queen. She sat so perfectly, it was if an artist's brush had carefully constructed each line of her body. She was a real beauty, not a single splotch of color stained pristine fur. A large book rested open in front of her as she sat erect, looking at the pages. Brilliant diamonds sparkled in the candlelight as they rested along a pink ribbon tied at her throat.

The older tom shook his head, burying his grief even further. "I don't know Munkustrap, I don't know. She has been like this since…since _then_!"

The silver tabby, Munkustrap, glanced towards the graceful queen. He turned back, staring at the ground in front of him. "I mean, she's reading a book, Bustopher… that's more than nothing…" He added weakly, giving a meek shrug.

Bustopher threw his paws down to his knees and shot an angry glare at Munkustrap. "This is not a time for jokes! I'm serious!" He angrily pointed a paw at the queen in the adjacent room. "She hasn't turned a page since you got here, about an hour ago, or even before that! She's _not_ reading." Bustopher quickly dropped his paw before she noticed. He gave a feint sadistic chuckle as he realized how silly a thought that even was.

Black paws massaged Munkustrap's temples as he continued to stare at the ground. He couldn't bear to bring his eyes up to meet these two cats filled with pain and grief. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that…I was trying to be optimistic."

A snort of derision was his only reply.

"I really am sorry, but I don't know what else to tell you." He added as he began to fiddle with a bare thread on the cushion beneath him.

"I know…I was really just hoping she would perk up if someone from the junkyard came…" After a moment of tense silence, a loud, grief filled groan emitted from the very core of Bustopher as he buried his face once again. Munkustrap could barely make out his words as Bustopher mumbled through his paws, "I've lost more than one kit!"

Munkustrap was struck speechless. How do you respond to that? He had never had kittens yet, so he could only imagine the pain ripping the poor father. The young daughter's emotions were completely unavailable to his mind. How could such a tragedy fall on such a loving family?

Munkustrap could still picture William running through the junkyard, a blur of white and black. He had been best friends with Pouncival, and oh, the trouble those two had gotten in. William had been much younger than Munkustrap, but older than his white sister. He was only a year or two out of kittenhood.

No one could predict how cats act when they loose someone dear, but the junkyard hadn't been prepared for a tragedy to fall on such a young tom. Bustopher had stopped coming to the yard completely, and many had feared his parental duties were failing as well. Victoria, William's sister, had completely shut down. The Jellicles had begun to wonder if this broken family could ever be repaired.

Munkustrap had been so eager to come on this visit in hopes that everything was not as lost as it had appeared to the yard, but he quickly realized it was far worse. After a few more agonizing moments of miserable silence, he cleared his throat, claiming Bustopher's attention back from his self-pity. "I must head back. It's getting dark, and I need to lead patrol tonight." He couldn't leave fast enough. He really did care for Bustopher, and especially Victoria, but there was nothing he could do at the moment. The despair seemed to clutch at him and almost physically weigh him down.

Bustopher looked up with an almost forlorn expression. "Oh yes, of course. I-I thank you for coming." He quickly stood and held his paw out as if to usher the tabby out of the den.

Munkustrap nodded, unsure of what to say next. As they approached the small hole in the boarded door, he turned and held his paw out to the grieving father. "I really am sorry for your loss. We'll be holding a service for William at the yard tomorrow."

The black and white tom stiffened, and eyed the silver tabby before him. He then gave a curt nod and turned away. Munkustrap was clearly able to show himself out. The young tom shrugged, and slipped into the night.

Bustopher stood in the doorway and watched Victoria with tears in his eyes. Running through his mind were prayers that her snowy paws would turn a single page, or do something to indicate she was even alive. Instead, the queen sat as still as a ghost, her rhythmic breathing the only indication that she wasn't a complete specter.

"Victoria, darling. I think we can call it a night." Bustopher tried to purr as he went around and extinguished all the candles.

Even in the darkness, the queen continued to stare at the book with her unseeing eyes. A shiver ran down Bustopher's spine, it was a chilling sight. The old tom was filled with grief as he turned to the window to stare at the rising moon. He had never felt so alone. He had been torn apart by the death of his mate, Isabella, but this new level of desolation left him completely unable to cope. His lovely mate had died before either of his kittens could remember, and Bustopher was her memory's keeper. He did not want that responsibility for the rest of his family too.

He turned back towards the ghost in the room and tried to rub the weariness from one of his eyes. "Please, Victoria. William would listen to me."

Victoria's ear flicked at his last comment. It was the first response Bustopher had had from her since William's death, two weeks ago.

**A/N: So what do you think? This is obviously going to be a multi-chapter story… but unless I hear that you really like it, I might just put it on the back burner for a while… But if you really like it, let me know (review, anonymous review, PM, anything). If I hear that you'd like me to continue sooner, I will make this one of my priorities along with my other story, I just needed to get this chapter out, it was bugging my mind. Hehe That aside, I also like to hear critiques or constructive criticism. Hope you enjoyed! :D**


	2. Her Prison

**Chapter 2: Her Prison**

**Disclaimer: I do not own CATS.**

The room was completely bathed in sunlight as various rays were scattered by the many crystals and mirrors adorning the room. Large French doors that no longer opened spanned an entire wall as glass teardrops hung in front of them, scattering rainbows across the entire room. Even though beautiful was the only word that could be used to describe the space; it was not at all warm or inviting. The light fell on a harsh wood floor that was polished to an extent that looked as if it had never been tread upon. The wall perpendicular to the windows was composed of mirrors from floor to ceiling. The room was almost completely empty except for the sunlight, a small stepstool in the corner, and a single white feline posed beautifully in the center of the unnecessarily large room. Back in its day, when the vacation house was used by only the finest humans, this area served as a ballroom. The echoes of the music and laughter had long since faded from those walls, and an unwelcome emptiness filled the air.

The queen cat was long and lean. Her limbs were lithe and graceful as they wistfully moved about in order to maintain her balance while creating beautiful portraits with each pose. A snow-white tail flicked delicately with every movement, continuing each line of her body while each dance position subtly maintained.

The dancer was barely out of kittenhood, but her body was that of a full queen's. She had clearly outgrown her kitten fat, and her limbs had lengthened to fit her sleek stature. Her muzzle had thinned out as the last remnants of kitten fluff had long since been replaced by smooth, short fur.

As the ghostly cat slowly pirouetted to face the mirror, she froze and held her position, relishing the perfection of each line and the poise in her current pose. Her blue eyes glistened with satisfaction as she gracefully let her limbs descend to the ground as delicately as the setting sun.

With slow and deliberate steps, the petite queen padded softly towards the mirror. She paused when she was only a few inches away and slowly held out her paw, placing it on the cold surface. She drew her breath as she contemplated the mirrors before her. They were unnerving slates of glass that would never allow one to lie or hide things, at least not in this light. She couldn't help but stare into the sapphire eyes of the stranger that seemed to gaze back at her through the glass. An odd flicker of emotion seemed to pass through them as the queen leaned even closer…

"Victoria, darling!" A deep voice bounced through the room.

Victoria flinched and quickly let her eyes and paw fall. She sheepishly glanced up to the portly tom tottering through the doorway. A gentle smile broke out on her face as she gave a brief dip of her head to her father, though making no move towards him.

The portly tuxedoed tom held a clownish grin that seemed to span his entire face, which was rather wide. Bustopher paused to lean against the doorframe as he off-handedly fiddled with his face fur. "That was quite superb my dear! You make your family proud." He voice was deep and comforting, like a father's should be.

Victoria's eyes dropped again as she glanced around the room, looking everywhere but at her father. After a silent moment of contemplation, the fair queen turned her back to her father and walked towards the only piece of furniture in the room. Placed perfectly in the center of the small stool that served as a table was a delicate porcelain saucer containing crystal clear water. A soft white face dipped towards the reviving liquid as a small pink tongue lapped up a few sips. Victoria gracefully lifted her head and cocked it to gain a better view of an old ragged, mouse-shaped cat toy tucked next to the bowl, almost out of sight. As she absentmindedly began to roll a tattered felt ear in her paw, she smiled again and turned to the unexpected visitor. "Thank you Papa. That means a lot."

Bustopher let out a loud chuckle as he held out his arms, beckoning his daughter into an embrace. "No need to thank me, dear! It's you who've put in all the work!"

A shy giggle reverberated throughout the room as Victoria jogged over to her father and lost herself in his embrace. In fact, with his overwhelming bulk, it was actually rather hard to spot the small queen surrounded by puffy black and white arms encircling her and pulling her closer

The large tom nuzzled the top of his precious daughters head before pulling back. "William would have been proud, Vicky. Remember how he used to teach you his favorite dance moves?" Bustopher's voice sounded far away as a flicker of sadness caused his smile to fall a small fraction.

Only the flicker of a single alabaster ear showed any response from the downy queen lost in the folds of furry arms. After a quick second of silence, the queen wrapped her arms as far as they could reach around the tom's waist and gave him a weak squeeze. "Papa…please…" she mumbled into his white bib as she shut her eyes tight.

If Bustopher heard, he pretended not to. The plump tom placed his paws securely on Victoria's shoulder and he held her at arm's length. He glanced up and down, sizing the beautiful queen up and down. "Oh, look at you; completing your first year as a queen! And the Ball this year will be your great debut…Ah, dear Victoria…I don't know if you remember William's Ball debut, it was the talk of the tribe. Oh how he could dance! You will surely rival his skill and dancing prowess!" Bustopher rubbed his paws up and down on Victoria's upper arms, emphasizing his words.

"Th-thank you Papa." Victoria whispered, averting her gaze to the ground, noting every grain in the woodwork.

Bustopher seemed a bit taken aback by her lack of response and he blinked a few times to gather his thoughts. He quickly added an extra pat on Victoria's shoulder and gave a nervous nod. "Why don't you run through it again? I would love to see the whole number you've planned, I only caught the tail end just now."

Victoria quickly gathered her tail in her paws and began to fiddle with it nervously. "Actually…Papa you see…I was hoping I could have a break and visit the junkyard." Her words were rushed, but not unintelligible. Every once in a while she would sneak a glance up at her father's serious countenance.

The elderly tom straightened himself up and rested his paws nervously on his protruding stomach. "V-Vicky, darling. What brought on this?" He seemed genuinely surprised and taken by surprise.

The downy queen shrugged her pristine shoulders. "Papa. I-I'm tired of dancing. I was hoping to visit my friends." Victoria's voice was quiet and shy. She knew she was in dangerous territory.

Bustopher took a step back as he shook his head as if trying to wrap his mind around what was before him. "But Victoria…not today. Some other time perhaps."

Victoria felt anger begin to well up insider her. She knew it wasn't right to disrespect her father, but she was tired of this den. This place was no home, it was a prison! However, it's not like anyone would believe her if she breathed a word about it. Instead of locks and bars, the queen was shackled by memories and chained by despair. Even though it had been almost two years since…since the incident, she could still feel its weight pulling her down the slippery slope of despair.

This time it was Victoria's turn to back away. "But Papa…!"

The refined tom shook his black and white head repeatedly as he waved his paws in the air, indicating that the conversation needed to end. "No but's Victoria! Not today. Whenever you go to the junkyard, you always come back upset. Not to mention how dangerous it is to get to the yard! You could get hurt…or even killed!" The tom's voice caught in his throat as the last words, it didn't take a genius to know his mind was slipping back to William.

Somehow, her father's hesitation only mounted her growing fury. Victoria turned and stormed across the room to the small stool she'd left earlier. She stared at the water in the dainty bowl; it was so calm with not a single ripple running across it. This placid surface only created another mirror to show Victoria her pain. The eerie calmness only seemed to unnerve her more.

The queen angrily threw her paw against the fragile saucer and watched it as water flew everywhere and the china made contact with the floor. A million little pieces skittered across the wood and scattered, making the room as dangerous physically as it was mentally.

Victoria froze for a moment, realizing what she had done. But she quickly realized how gratifying the release felt. She turned a daring eye to her father, her temper boiling into her icy gaze.

"Victoria!" Bustopher roared as the last echoes of the shattered saucer settled into silence.

"No!" Victoria hissed. "I want you to listen to me!" The small queen could hear her voice rise in volume, but she couldn't help it, she was ready to release two years of pain. "Maybe I'm upset because I have to come back to this _prison_! I have to come home to _you_!" Victoria tried desperately to blink back the tears that had begun to blur her vision. The young queen could feel her chest heave as she tried to control her breath and the fury raging within her. She glared at her father's feet, unable to look him in his pained eyes.

Silence reigned in the room for a few moments more. Dainty paws began to tremble as the young queen clenched them into fists.

"Vicky…Why don't you just stay here and we can talk about this." A sweet, baritone voice called tentatively across the room.

Victoria's gaze shot up to her father. "Don't you listen to _anything_ I say, or are you too wrapped up in the past?" She hesitated, not sure she wanted to continue. She looked down to see that somewhere in the exchange she had grabbed the small mouse toy and was rolling it back and for between her paws. She glared at it for a few more moments before a new wave of fury overcame her. "Sometimes I wish that _I_ had died instead!"

With her last outburst, Victoria threw the trinket at Bustopher before sprinting out a second door that led to an elaborate porch. The small queen began to sniffle as tears streamed down her face. She tried her best to blink back the salty tears without breaking her stride. Her back paws became a blur as she headed straight for junkyard, oblivious to the world around her.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The other cats will be making their appearance in the next chapter. Please review and let me know what you thought! I am not sure if I made it clear, but this obviously happened before the ball in the move. I'm not sure exactly how much before, but I figure it doesn't really matter. I just wanted you to have a general idea, just so things make sense in future chapters. **


	3. A Challenge

**Chapter 3: A Challenge**

**A/N: Good gracious! It's been sooooooo long (definitely too long) since I updated. I really can't apologize enough. But at least and update is an update, right? I hope so. Anyways, I had this whole story outlined, and then I lost all the paper…so now I'm winging it. I mean I still know the general plotline of the story, but I'm afraid I'm going to forget some of the subtle nuances that I had come up with about the story. Oh well. I hope you enjoy! I'll definitely be trying to update **_**all**_** my stories soon and more often! Thanks again and please review!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Cats! Shocker!**

The young tom couldn't help but smirk as he watched the petite little Jemima flutter her eyelashes, practically in a tizzy. The young kit giggled and looked away shyly. "Stop it Plato!" She mewed as she playfully pawed him, asking for mercy from his teasing jabs. Most tomcats were driven practically mad by Jemima's flirtatious ways. However, this was the usual for young Plato, and he simply laughed and looked away, unfazed by those doe eyes or tittering voice.

During the Jellicle Balls, the cats always sung the praises of the queen-obsessed Rum Tum Tugger, but he was only in the yard for about one week a year. His rarity was the real reason that the queens were so obsessed. The more permanent resident of the junkyard and the real queen's tom was Plato himself. His cream fur covered in copper splotches only seemed to further accentuate his strong build and tight muscles. He was large and masculine, everything a queen wanted, and he knew it.

Plato had been around the dating block a time or two. He had never had a serious relationship, but that was okay. He was still young; he wasn't supposed to get tied down anytime soon. Plus, it wasn't like anyone had ever been hurt by his flirtations. All the queens in the yard knew what kind of tom he was, and never really expected much out of him.

Recently, Jemima had become the center of his attention again, and it was so hard to not notice the demure lolita. However, the patched tom quickly grew bored of her stale games and was no longer impressed by her coy looks or light touches. But that was just the problem. Everything was stale, old, and most of all, boring! There was no challenge anymore. It wasn't even that he was just so good at flirting, but all of the queen's knew what kind of tom he was, so they willingly played along for the attention; they played him almost as much as he did them. Everything was always the same and so mundane.

With a deft wink, and a tickle under that white chin, Plato slipped off of the tattered sofa that the two had been sitting on. As usual, Jemima made no attempt to chase after the spotted playboy. She had gotten her attention and she didn't expect much more. With a quick bound she leapt over the back of the couch and went to find something else to amuse her.

Plato suppressed a sigh as he began to pick his way through the yard, greeting the few cats he came across. Everyone in this yard was so boring…so predictable. What he wouldn't do for something new to capture his attention. It didn't even have to be a new queen; he just needed anything that would break the monotony that was beginning to overtake his life.

His contemplation had carried Plato to lesser-visited areas of the yard. The young tom was about to turn around and go look for a new queen to try and capture his attention when feint noises arrested his progress. Copper furred ears swiveled wildly in an attempt to locate the offending sounds. Even though the evidence was feint, Plato could tell that whoever it was, was throwing things around some clearing or other.

At first the patched tom was going to dismiss the disturbance as Pouncival or Mistoffelees up to their usual mischief until he remembered that he had passed them in the clearing. So who could be making such a racket? As improbable as it was, perhaps this was something new to distract him from the Jellicle life. Heck, Plato would even be happy if it was a peke in the yard. Anything that would let him experience something exciting…

As quiet as a cat could be, Plato stalked in the direction of the noise; the commotion getting louder and louder the closer he got. Finally, hugging close to one of the surrounding piles, the muscular tom crept to the edge of the clearing to see what was making all the noise. To his surprise, it wasn't one of the usual tribe members or even a peke. Instead busily hustling around the clearing was a queenkit hurriedly tossing some fallen debris back on the piles and out of the clearing. The young queen was lithe and slender with a petite frame; Plato would be surprised if her ears even made it up to his shoulders. As the small cat methodically worked through the fallen trash, a steady coat of dust began to cover her fur, but even with the dingy brown layer, her alabaster pelt almost seemed to radiate through.

Plato let out a silent chuckle as he straightened out of his defensive crouch and contented himself to lean against the pile with his arms crossed over his chest. The tom couldn't suppress his crooked smile, as his copper eyes refused to leave the queen. Not only was the young kit beautiful, but it was also entertaining to watch as she desperately tried to keep the items on the pile and prevent them from continually falling back into the clearing.

Once the area was clear to her satisfaction, the queen did something that Plato wasn't expecting. After quickly dusting herself off, which did little to actually clean the dirt from her coat, and gently lifted her arms and legs as if to dance; and dance she did. Her movements were slow and almost shy at first, but she quickly began to dance herself into a frenzy. While she never lost the dancing quality and grace, it was almost as if she was fighting something off, perhaps something inside her. Her kicks and spins came to her with almost a sense of urgency as if she was trying to push herself to the edge. With one final, powerful jump spin, the kit came crashing to the ground. A small cloud of dust erupted under her knees, and the queen made no attempt to get up, allowing the dust to settle as her shoulders heaved in an effort to catch her breath. It was increasingly clear that she was mad as someone or something.

Perhaps Plato's prayers were answered; he had never seen this queen before, and she was absolutely beautiful. After taking a moment to let the dust settle, Plato slowly began to clap his paws together, never dropping his crooked smile. "Not too bad, chickadee." He purred, stepping into the clearing.

The white cat's head shot up as she turned her face towards the intruder. Plato froze for a moment as her crystal blue eyes met his. It wasn't the beauty he found in them that caught his attention, though they were quite beautiful. It was something that he couldn't quite place. It was almost as if there was a war going on _inside_ the queen. It was almost as if her eyes were calling for help while also warding everyone away. However, it was clear that the queen was fighting back tears that were threatening to be free.

The patched tom quickly shook the thoughts from his mind, it must have been a long while since he had met someone new and now he was just trying to read into things too much. He had simply scared the queen, that was all. Quickly recovering himself, the tom held up his paws in a sign of innocence. "Sorry, little darlin, didn't mean ta frighten ya. I just heard ya moving things around and came to investigate and saw ya dancing. It was pretty good." Plato motioned over his shoulder, indicating the direction he came from.

The queen's blue eyes narrowed in suspicion as she listened to Plato's tale. She slowly stood up, never taking her eyes off her intruder and began to actually dust herself off. Plato realize how pure and white her fur really was as the dust began to fall away. He liked what he saw. "Where'd you learn to dance like that chickadee?" He asked, resuming his advance on the queen.

Brilliant white fangs glistened in the setting sun as if to warn Plato to halt his advance. "Who are you?" The queen's voice was beautiful, almost as if each word held a little song. Even when she was trying to be threatening, she was tantalizingly tempting. "And I'm _not_ a bird."

Plato let out a deep chest laugh as he let his paws fall to his side. "Sorry there darlin. I'm Plato…part of the Jellicle Tribe of this junkyard. And it's just you're so light on your paws, it's like a bird in flight." Plato knew that he was laying it on thick, but it had been so long since he actually had to win someone over. Since he had to legitimately charm someone, he was intrigued and up to the task.

The strange queen seemed to look Plato up and down as she took a step closer to him to size him up. She cocked an eyebrow as she studied his face and lopsided grin. "Plato…" She paused, it was as if she had heard the name before and was trying to place it. A look of recognition flooded her face as her suspicion gave way to a mischievous smile.

The young kit quickly closed the distance between the two cats so that they were closer than Plato had expected. The young queen stood on the tips of her back paws so that her snowy ears just barely reached past Plato's chin. "I'm Victoria." She purred. "Jem has told me all about you…" Her eyes glinted with an impish light as her smile widened. Her eyes seemed to searching his for something…

Plato was taken aback and actually had to work to keep his breathing normal and to maintain his balance to keep from reeling back from her. This wasn't what he was expecting. Plato had expected a demure, shy little creature that would bat her eyelashes at every compliment as he laid it on thick. Then she'd be his, easy as pie. He hadn't been expecting her to make the sudden advance, or to even get this close. He could feel her breath playing with his fur, as her scent seemed to overwhelm him. That lilting voice suddenly encompassed him and it was all he could comprehend. On top of all of that, he definitely hadn't been expecting her to know his reputation.

Plato took a hard swallow as he tried to will his body to react smoothly.

Victoria was leaning closer to the tom, her eyes still searching…

"_Victoria!_" An authoritative, demanding yell carried across the clearing, interrupting the moment.

The downy Victoria looked as if she had been shot and quickly pulled herself away from Plato. (The young tom wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved). As cutely as a kitten, Victoria leaned to the side to peek around Plato's broad shoulders. Her face instantly fell into an odd mixture of terror and anger, both emotions warring for dominance.

Plato swiveled in place to view who had interrupted his meeting with this intriguing queen. Standing almost commandingly at the entrance of the clearing was a sparking Mistoffelees. Plato couldn't think of a time he had ever seen the gentle tom this angry before. "Victoria." The tuxedoed tom repeated the syllables as if they were a crippling command.

Victoria quickly answered that command, slinking over to the sparking magician. The tom had his black ears pinned back in anger as he quickly began to sling a hushed scolding at the now docile queen. However, whatever Mistoffelees had been saying was quickly beginning to rile Victoria up. Her tail began to slash violently as her white ears were pinned against her skull as well. The tom's white paw took a stern hold on Victoria's wrist as he began to lead her away from the clearing.

Snowy white paws dug into the ground as Victoria yanked her arm free of her captor's hold. She hissed something back, her hackles rising.

Even with Plato's sensitive ears, he wasn't able to hear anything of what the two were saying, just hushed, clearly angry voices. However, whatever it was that they were talking about, Mistoffelees was clearly infuriated and he was distressing Plato's new girl, Victoria. He quickly took a step towards the two, calling out, "Yo, Misto, the little chickadee doesn't have to go with ya if she doesn't want to."

Plato had simply been trying to play the hero to Victoria's damsel in distress, but a sudden change had come over the other two cats that made him wonder if he had made the right decision. Mistoffelees anger seemed to jump to a whole new level as even more sparks began to erupt from his fur, creating small electricity arcs as it danced over his body. All the fight that Plato had seen in Victoria seemed to suddenly deflate as her eyes dropped to the ground. As sad and depressed as she looked, it was painfully clear that this was Victoria's natural state. Plato couldn't say why, but for some reason he just knew that the real Victoria was this heartrending, lost little queen.

Mistoffelees let his copper eyes fall on Victoria for a moment with almost a kind of pity in them. He quickly turned back to Plato, his fury rising. "To the den." He hissed to Victoria, never letting his eyes off of Plato.

The young queen didn't have to be told twice and she quickly slunk out of the clearing without even looking back at the patched tom she had just met.

Then slowly, deliberately, with a type of malice that no one had ever seen in the young tom, Mistoffelees made his advance towards Plato. Once he was a few strides away, he lifted a paw and pointed at the copper and cream cat. A quick flick of his black paw sent a burst of energy just over Plato's shoulder and erupting into the pile behind him.

Even though he didn't want to, Plato couldn't help it as his body flinched.

Mistoffelees quickly closed the distance between the two toms and grabbed Plato by his chest fur and pulling him down so the two were face to face. There was none of the friendliness that Plato was used to anywhere in those copper orbs. Plato was too stunned to resist.

The smaller tom's lips curled as he bared his fangs to his much larger opponent. Every word was slow and deliberate, as if each one was an individual threat. "Don't you _ever_ go near my cousin again!"

Plato was stunned even more, and all he could do was blink. Cousin? This day was full of surprises.

Mistoffelees continued, "Do you hear me you stupid playboy? Victoria _will not_ be one of your silly little playthings. She's fragile enough as it is. I will not tolerate any of what you think of as entertainment." With his last statement, Mistoffelees gave Plato a hard shove as he turned to walk away. Once the tuxedoed tom was at the entrance of the clearing, he turned around one last time and pointed a sparking paw at Plato. "I won't miss next time." He warned before he disappeared after his cousin.

Plato was frozen to the spot as he rubbed his chest where Mistoffelees's claws had clenched his fur. He knew that he had asked for something new and exciting, but this was all happening at once. A new, beautiful queen had suddenly entered under Plato's radar and her cousin, a tom that Plato had thought was his friend, was now threatening him. After a moment to process all of this, the patched tom regained his nerve and found his crooked smile again. He liked this new exciting twist in life. "This sounds like a fun new challenge little chickadee…" He purred to himself as he began to formulate a plan to see Victoria again.

**A/N: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know what you thought! I think I like it, but you guys matter too. I originally thought there would be more other Jellicle interactions, but it just didn't seem to fit the story just right just yet. Sorry if you were looking forward to that. But our hero(?) finally met our heroine! Odd meeting right? Both seem to be scheming… hmmm… oh well. Review pretty pretty please! :D**


	4. Why?

**Chapter 4: Why?**

**A/N: Well here's another installment. I do promise, I'll eventually update my other stories. This one had just been dying to get out, so it's what I've been writing. Please enjoy and let me know what you think! :)**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Cats. Surprise?**

As the petite tom made his way through the junkyard, he did his best to willfully extinguish the sparks ignited by his fury. Mistoffelees was blind to everything that he passed as his concentration and his anger consumed his mind. The black and white tom had never felt such fury course through his body as the sparks in his white bib and the tips of his ears began to die down.

The source of this anger wasn't his cousin, Victoria, but that playboy tom, Plato. Of course Mistoffelees would have been lying if he didn't admit there was some anger towards the snowy queen, but one couldn't really stay mad at her long, not when they considered her condition. How long had Mistoffelees tried to get Victoria out of her house and into the junkyard, hoping that new faces and new experience would help heal the wounds that her heart carried?

No, the real cat at fault in this situation was Plato. Mistoffelees had always been able to forgive the tom's usual player ways, but when he saw that tom so close to Victoria, something in the magical cat had snapped. When Plato was with the other queens, everyone knew his reputation and no one was really hurt, but Mistoffelees knew that Victoria couldn't react like that. She was already so frail, so fragile. Mistoffelees wasn't sure if she'd be able to recover from another heartbreak, it might be the final crack that would completely shatter her heart and mind. Of course the black and white tom felt a little guilty about snapping about his new mistreatment of his old friend, but currently Victoria was of more importance than the toms' friendship.

As the young tom neared the pipe that signaled the entrance to his den, his angry pace slowed down. Mistoffelees glanced up at the setting sun and released a large sigh that seemed to push all the anxiety and tenseness out of his petite body. A white paw rested shakily on the pipe as his black paw ran agitatedly through his headfur. It was odd that there were few cats out in the clearing, but it was getting late and they were probably all settling in for the night.

Mistoffelees closed his copper eyes tight and took another deep breath, trying to will all his anger out of his body. His anger would get him nowhere with the small, delicate queen waiting for him inside the den.

Just as the tom released his breath, a strong but gentle paw gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Mistoffelees's eyes shot open as he turned to find a concerned looking Munkustrap staring intently back at him. Even though the tribe protector had yet to have kittens of his own, he mastered that fatherly-concerned-look.

"Hello there Mistoffelees. I saw…" The steel tabby gave Mistoffelees another gentle squeeze as he nodded his head in the direction of the den.

It didn't take a detective to figure out what Munkustrap meant, and Mistoffelees couldn't help his ears dropping a bit in disappointment. "Look, Munk, please don't worry about it! I'll keep an eye on her. I promise she won't cause trouble this time!" The magic tom's copper eyes eagerly searched the protectors gray ones as he tried to convince Munkustrap on his promise.

Munkustrap let a gentle smile grace his lips as he let go of Mistoffelees shoulder and held up his paws in surrender. "Don't worry about it Mistoffelees. You know that the tribe is more concerned for Victoria than ready to accuse her." The great leader gave a small shake of his head. "Should I go find Jemima?"

It was Mistoffelees's turn to shake his head. "No…thank you. Let the poor queen sleep, I know these visits aren't her favorite thing. She deserves time to spend with her real friends."

The Jellicle Protector gave a sage nod as if contemplating Mistoffelees's words. "I'll do as you wish, but please don't be so quick to assume other's feelings for your cousin. Anyways, I'll let you go into your den. Let us know if you, or Victoria, need anything."

Another sigh escaped Mistoffelees's lips as he watched Munkustrap pick his way out of the clearing and back on patrol. It was clear that the young tom was not convinced by Munkustrap's words as he slowly turned back into the den. As Mistoffelees entered, he made sure to close the curtain behind him, indicating that he did not wish to be disturbed.

When the tom emerged on the other side of the pipe and into the main compartment of his den, he gave a quick flick of his paw, which caused a small lamp near the center of the room to light up as if it had been plugged in.

Even though the den had been dark until Mistoffelees had brought the lamp to life, Victoria still sat on a pile of blankets, a book open in her lap. She seemed to almost ritually turn the pages and allow her paws to run over the pages and linger on the few images contained among the words. Only the Everlasting Cat knew what kind of secrets Victoria had been staring at in the dark, but she didn't look up or even react as Mistoffelees entered the den and summoned the light.

Mistoffelees paused for a moment to gaze on the queen as an unexplainable sadness seemed to well up inside him. Eventually the tuxedoed tom lowered himself onto a cinderblock that sat next to an elevated plank that served as his reading desk and chair. He continued to let his eyes linger on his cousin's snowy silhouette before resting his elbows on his knees and his forehead in his paws. He managed two more deep breaths before turning his gaze back to Victoria though leaving one paw on his forehead in exhaustion. "Victoria…"

There was no reaction as another page was turned and another secret examined.

Mistoffelees rubbed his paws into his closed copper eyes. From the very beginning (long, long ago), he refused to play this game that the little family had created as they followed their own rules. There had to be some other way. "Victoria…Look, I'm sorry I yelled, but I was upset…Will you please look up from that _stupid book_!"

A snowy ear flicked in annoyance as icy blue eyes shot up to meet Mistoffelees's copper ones. It was odd; Victoria's eyes didn't hold anything close to anger, but rather a mix of despair and defiance. "It's not stupid." She mumbled, never letting her eyes leave his as her paw ran over the page again.

Mistoffelees got up and crossed the den, settling next to his alabaster cousin as he placed a gentle paw on hers to halt its ritualistic page stroking. "Really, I'm sorry Viki." He purred, his voice so gentle it was as if he was speaking to a newborn kitten. "I didn't mean to say those things… I was just upset." He paused, weighing his next words. "Do you know who you were talking to?"

Victoria rolled her eyes as she snapped the book shut. "Of course I did Mistoffelees! I don't just hang out with strangers! That was Plato." At the last sentence, the young queen straightened her back and looked quite proud of herself.

Mistoffelees continued to gaze intently at Victoria, studying her posture and trying to understand what was going on in that labyrinth of her mind. "Okay… And hasn't Jemima told you about him?"

A loud groan emitted from Victoria's petite throat as she dramatically rolled her eyes before staring blankly at the desk across the den. "Yes, Mistoffelees! He seemed fine to me!" Victoria's voice was one of a defiant kitten that was tired of being told what to do.

The black and white tom tried to calm the torrent of emotions that seemed to be coursing through Victoria with a gentle squeeze of his paw. "Then please stay away from him. He's not a tom that runs in the good crowd. You know how we worry."

Victoria glanced agitatedly towards Mistoffelees as her fur seemed to bristle a bit. "Don't say that." Her voice was close to a hiss. "Pleasing papa is the _last_ thing I care about it!"

Mistoffelees's eyes continued to study Victoria's face, trying to understand what she was saying. Her father was all she had left of her nuclear family, how had their relationship gotten this bad? Then a thought seemed to break on him. "You weren't talking him just to… ya know…anger Uncle Bustopher, were you?"

Victoria's icy gaze settled back on Mistoffelees as she snatched her paw out of his grasp. "And what if I was. I don't see what you guys have to do with my actions!"

Mistoffelees instinctively rose to his back paws in offense. "Victoria!" He could feel his anger rising in him again. "Don't you dare say those things! You know we care!"

"Papa doesn't care. You know he doesn't!" Victoria's voice was low and deadly. Her eyes portraying the hurt tearing her soul apart. "You know, as well as I do, what papa really wants! All he wants is… All papa wants is…_him_ back!"

It didn't take more than a moment for Mistoffelees to understand the game that Victoria was trying to play and what she was trying to make him do and say. He had sworn upon his mother's grave long ago that he wasn't going to play into this charade as the family tore itself apart. Mistoffelees's paws quickly ran through his paws through his headfur as he tried to will himself to calm down again. As he felt the sparks begin to rise, he knew he had to end this conversation now before he did just as the queen wanted. In a forced but gentle voice, Mistoffelees addressed Victoria through his closed lids, "Victoria, I need to step outside. Again, I'm sorry. Please just let it go. And please stay in the den, read the book or something, I'll be back in a moment."

Mistoffelees didn't even wait for a reply as he quickly exited the den into the crisp night air. He leaned his lean back against the pipe as he stared up at the stars. The same question kept running through his head. How had anyone let this family fall so apart? What would Aunt Isabella think? Or even worse, what would William think?

The image of the black and white patched cat wouldn't leave Mistoffelees's mind as the imaginary tom's deep sapphire eyes seemed to gaze directly into Mistoffelees's soul, asking the same question: 'Why'?

The image quickly faded into clips of Mistoffelees's memories. The magical tom could easily recall those peaceful times long ago when William would run through the yard, a small white kitten trailing his tail like a shadow. William was probably one of the best brother's a kitten could ask for. He would always help his sister with new dance moves or teach her the games of the junkyard. (Games that he always made sure he lost when he was playing against his sister.)

A few hours later, after Mistoffelees had run out of film in his movies of memories, he realized he should head back in and make sure that Victoria was okay. He sighed, realizing he still had no answers to any of his questions. Silently, the tom padded through the pipe and into the main room of the den. As soon as he entered the den, he realized that Victoria had extinguished the lamp.

Mistoffelees slipped over to the corner of the den and grabbed his tail in his paws. Pulling his tail's white tip up to his lips, he whispered a few Latin phrases. After he let the phrases hang in the air for a moment, he gently blew into his tail. The white portion of his tail gently began to glow and the light grew brighter and brighter. Before the light grew to bright, Mistoffelees quickly waved his paw over the glowing tip and seemed to motion it to lower. The light quickly became dimmer until it was only as bright as a child's night-light.

The tom let his eyes adjust to the new amount of light before turning to examine the den before him. Curled up on the pile of blankets, a small ball of white fur seemed to breathe steadily. Victoria's eyes were shut as her ears flicked, picking up the noises that were only in the land of dreams. Laying almost reverently under one of her paws was the open tome that she had been studying earlier.

Mistoffelees couldn't help but smile as he turned back to his desk and picked up a small, well-worn mouse toy that had been sitting next to a pile of books. Earlier in the day, Bustopher had sent a messenger requesting Mistoffelees presence. Mistoffelees had run as fast as his paws would carry him to Busopher's and Victoria's den-house. The older tom had relayed everything that had happened and giving the young tom the tattered toy, hoping Mistoffelees could bring Bustohper's precious daughter back.

The tuxedoed tom rotated the toy in his paws as he analyzed the dearly-loved object. After contemplating the warmth that seemed to radiate from little mouse, he couldn't help but roll a tattered, felt ear in his paw as he crossed the den towards his dear cousin.

Gently, with the care you give a newborn, he lifted a dainty paw and closed the book before lowering the paw back onto the book. Mistoffelees's eyes lingered on the ink placed ceremoniously on the book's spine: _The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe_.

A feint sigh escaped Mistoffelees as his eyes lingered on the title before gazing back at the mouse toy, and then ending on Victoria's sleeping countenance. It seemed that even in her dreams, happiness still eluded her.

Finally, Mistoffelees softly placed the toy next to Victoria's paw. He watched as the sleeping queen seemed to sense his action as she shifted slightly, pulling the mouse up against her cheek.

Mistoffelees let his gaze rest for a few more moments on Victoria, another sigh escaping his lips. "Victoria, I wish I could make you understand, we do care. There's no one Uncle Bustopher cares about more…He's just scared. We're both so scared for you. You're-you're the only family we have left…"

With that last statement, Mistoffelees placed a gentle kiss on Victoria's forehead before straightening up and walking to a crate in a far corner of the den. He silently lifted the extra blankets and a pillow out of the crate that were there just for occasions like this. The small tom cleared out a small space in front of his reading desk as he spread the blankets out. Mistoffelees curled up and grabbed his tail again, giving it another blow, extinguishing the light. As the darkness settled in and Mistoffelees curled his tail over his nose, he finally let a few of the tears he had been holding slip down his cheek.

A whispered carried through the darkness, so feint that Mistoffelees would have thought it was a ghost if they hadn't come from his mouth, "Victoria, can you ever forgive me for letting this happen?"

Silence filled the den as the tom let a dreamless sleep consume him.

**A/N: Please REVIEW! It really keeps me going (sometimes even faster!) It really helps me to know that people are reading and enjoying my story! Let me know what you think! Improvements? Critiques? Compliments? Favorite lines? I'll take anything! Haha Thank you so much for reading! **


	5. The Investigation

**Chapter 5: The Investigation**

**Disclaimer: I don't own CATS. Sad day…**

Plato could feel the heat from the sunlight making warm patches on his fur before he saw its light through his closed eyelids. The mottled tom lethargically sat up, rubbing sleep and headfur out of his eyes. Long, muscled arms stretched to their full length as warm, brown eyes opened to the morning before him. He quickly took in the scattered piles of rags under the dilapidated desk that made his den. It wasn't fully closed in, and the sun and the wind could usually get to him, but the desk kept out the rain and the rags made for a warm bed. Additionally, the rundown den kept up with his 'bad-boy' reputation, so there wasn't much to complain about.

After stretching his back, legs, and tail, Plato quickly jumped out from under the desk and down the last few feet of the pile in which his den was embedded. The young tom couldn't help but smile as he glanced at the rising sun and the wispy clouds that seemed to barely crawl across the sky. Today was going to be a lovely day, which was perfect since he was determined to follow through with his plan. Today he was going to be a regular Sherlock Holmes, and begin investigating the strange events that had happened yesterday.

Of course, he had been planning through most of the night. It was clear from Mistoffelees's reaction that he wasn't going to get any information from the magical tom, but he also had to make sure that the tuxedoed tom didn't find out either. This was going to be an operation of the utmost delicacy.

The first step in the plan was to find Jemima. That Victoria had mentioned her during their brief encounter, and Plato knew with the right smirk and smooth compliment that he could make the lolita queen sing. He just had to find her first.

It didn't take much time for Plato to find the petite queen enjoying the rising sun at the top of her favorite junk pile. With swift, powerful bounds, Plato easily scaled the pile. He sauntered the last few steps up the pile as that crooked smile of his played on his lips. "Hey there, chickadee." He purred as he reached the summit and the queen at the top.

Jemima quickly rolled her eyes as if she had heard the most unoriginal pickup like in the yard, but couldn't seem to suppress a kittenish giggle. She quickly leaned over to nuzzle the playboy in greeting, her eyes glinting with mischief. "And to what do I owe this honored visit so early in the morning?"

Plato gave a brief shrug before sitting down next to the queen, his tail weaving an intricate dance in the air. Even though he gave his movements a well studied air of nonchalance, his tail strategically brushed against the queen's black and white one. This was his game, his element. He needed to gather information, and flirting was definitely the best way to get what he wanted.

"Can't a tom just come and talk to his favorite queen, chickadee?"

A soprano giggle sounded again as Jemima shook her head with a look that resembled disbelief. "A regular tom can, but you aren't one of those. And I know you don't have a favorite queen."

A normal cat would probably be insulted by Jemima's words, but Plato couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as she pinned his personality. His crooked grin grew wider as he puffed out his chest. "Well, you are right about me being special."

A white paw made a swipe at Plato's ear, which he easily dodged. "I didn't say _that_." Jemima purred. "Anyways, what's the real reason you're here? It's usually lucky if we see you before midday." Large, doe eyes stared intently at Plato as a coy smile played on her lips. It was clear that Jemima loved playing these flirtatious games almost as much as Plato.

Plato took a moment to calculate his words. Now was the beginning of this delicate operation. "Well, chickadee, I really did want to talk. The strangest thing happened to me yesterday."

If it was possible, Jemima's eyes grew wider as she leaned even closer. "Oh? Strange?" She breathed, her eyes never leaving his.

Plato could remember that time when Jemima was the new challenge to him. Those times when her coy little maneuvers would take his breath away. However, it hadn't taken long for him to realize he just liked the game and not the queen. It's not that he disliked Jemima, he just didn't like her 'like that'. But it was okay, because it was clear that the feeling was mutual. "Yeah... strange..." Plato paused a moment to think through his words before he decided to to just let it all out. "Ya see, I met this queen yesterday. A real beauty. Her name was Victoria-"

The words were immediately caught in Plato's throat as he realized that the dainty queen in front of him immediately pulled back and straightened. Her smile and the mischievous glint in her eyes quickly faded. It was clear that she was no longer up for playing this, or any type of game.

"What does that have to do with me?" Her voice was short and almost curt as her eyes turned away from Plato and back over the junkyard before her.

"Well, I was wondering who she was..." It couldn't be that Jemima was jealous. That didn't make sense, so what brought about this sudden change?

"I understand, but why would I know anything?"

Plato had never been lost for words in this queen's presence, but he had always assumed that if he was, it wouldn't be because she was mad at him. "Um... ya see..." Was he stuttering? He had to pull himself together! "Well, the lil' queen mentioned your name when we were talking, so I figured ya knew her."

Jemima's gaze narrowed as she seemed to study Plato and the benevolence of his intentions. "She mentioned me?"

"Yup." Plato added with some embarrassment, reluctant to tell her what the context of the name drop was.

Jemima straightened up even more as she continued to study the patched tom before her. "What did you want to know?"

Plato wasn't sure if this was a good start or a poor one, but at least it was a start. "I was just wondering who she was I guess. It's just like she appeared before me, and I've never even seen her before, but she knew who the Jellicles were. All I know is that she's talked to you before and is Mistoffelees's cousin." Plato chuckled as he remembered the encounter, a little bit of his own playfulness creeping back into his voice. "Definitely learned that."

A dry smile toyed with Jemima's lips as her gaze softened. "So he saw you two together? I would've paid to see that."

A silent shrug was her only reply, as Plato hoped that she would continue to tell him more. He needed all the information he could get if he was going to take on this new challenge.

Silence ensued between the two cats as Jemima seemed to be picturing the encounter. After another moment, she finally turned towards Plato. Most of the harshness in her gaze had fled and was replaced with a kind of sadness. "I don't know that much about her. Daddy refuses to tell me a lot of the details, and I was so young back then..."

"Back when?"

A fierce glare met Plato's question, quickly telling him not to interrupt again.

"Anyways, I forget that you are pretty new to the yard. The reason you've probably never seen her before is that she doesn't live here. She's Bustopher's kitten. She lives with him in an abandoned house closer to the city."

Plato did his best to suppress his laugh of disbelief. There was no possible way that that pompous, gargantuan tom who made his morose appearance at the first ball that Plato had attended last year was even remotely related to the beautiful, delicate creature he had met the day before. But then again, that would explain her relation to Mistoffelees. "But you know her, apparently enough to talk to her."

Jemima gave a dismissive wave of her paw as if that was a silly question. "She makes the rare visits to the yard. It's usually kept rather under wraps... I'm one of the few that know when she comes." The small queen's countenance suddenly became contemplative. "Though I wasn't informed this time..."

Copper ears strained forward, trying to pick up every word of Jemima's quiet contemplation. "Why doesn't the yard know? Is something wrong? She did seem rather odd."

With a sudden, violent shake of her head, Jemima straightened up and that sweet smile of hers reappeared. "Look Plato, I really don't want to talk about this anymore. And as much as I hate to agree with 'always-follow-the-rules' Misto, he's right. You should stay away from Victoria." That was clearly the end of the conversation as Jemima deftly got up onto her paws and began to dust the dirt off her legs.

Plato couldn't help but stare at Jemima in disbelief. He had not expected to hear those words come from her. Who was this strange Victoria that he had just met? Why was everyone so protective? They had to know he didn't mean any harm, he just wanted to have fun.

The muscular tom quickly jumped to his paws, making one last, desperate attempt. He took a quick step towards Jemima; they were so close that he had to tilt his head down to look at her and she had too gaze up to look him in the eyes. Plato plastered that cocky, crooked smile on his face as he ran paw along the queen's jaw bone. "C'mon chickadee..." The tom made sure to put extra charm in a velvety purr.

Jemima giggled like a kitten and batted her eyes, never letting her gaze leave Plato's. A petite paw traced a small path down the center of Plato's broad chest as Jemima glanced away, as if too bashful to look him in the eyes. After a sly glance back up at Plato, she purred almost seductively, "Since it's you..."

The shyness little queen's face was suddenly gone and a mischievous grin replaced the demure smile. As soon as her demeanor changed, Jemima used her paw to give Plato a gentle shove in the chest. "Did you really think that would work on _me_? I practically taught it to you." She snorted, though making sure there was no maliciousness in her voice.

Plato took a step back, slightly thrown off by her playful push. While he hadn't been expecting this turn of events, in the end he wasn't really surprised by them. Jemima had always been the feisty one. Once she caught on to Plato's personality, she had always been ready to playfully flirt right back at him. The two of them were like a more conservative Bombalurina and Tugger who were simply friends and nothing more.

Dainty paws finished dusting the rest of the dirt off of Jemima's legs as she continued to smile to herself. Once her fur was clean to her satisfaction, Jemima turned a playful eye on Plato once again. "However, I know you, and I know you will never leave me alone until you find out what you're looking for... But I have no intention of discussing this any further, _ever!_ So I would suggest talking Tumble, he might be more willing to help you."

Then, with that last statement, Jemima left. However, she did make sure that her hips and tail had a sly swing to them as she carefully picked her path down the pile. She was always such a playful queen.

Now, Plato had a new destination. He _had_ to find Tumble. There was no other way. A challenge wrapped in a mystery lay before him and he wasn't going to give up that easy. He was going to find out all he could about this new queen; his interest was thoroughly peaked.

It took almost half of the day to find the boisterous young tom. Plato wasn't sure why he hadn't checked with Pouncival, Tumblebrutus's brother, first. It would have saved a great deal of time to know that the young acrobat was on patrol duty. Heck, Pounce even knew where his brother was stationed. Clearly this was not a mistake that Plato would make again.

Trying his best to suppress his self-deprecating chuckles as he spotted the brown-patched tom, Plato began his ascent up the pile that served as a lookout post. It didn't take long for the coppery tom's strong limbs to scale the pile, and find a comfortable spot next to his old pal, Tumblebrutus. "Duty, huh?" He said, attempting to make some form of small talk.

Tumble couldn't hold back his usual, broad smile as a deep chuckle reverberated from his chest. "The queens not up for chasing this morning, Plato?"

Plato pretended to look offended, though laughing along with his friend. It was nice to hang out with his friend again, and he couldn't help but smile as well when he heard their combined laughter drifting through the junkyard. He forgot how long it had been since he really sat down and talked with Tumble. "Eh, fickle as always." He purred.

The two toms let themselves sit in silence, eagerly drinking in each other's company. When Plato had first come off the London streets and into the junkyard, Tumble had been his first friend. It was comforting to know that nothing seemed to have changed between them.

Eventually, as much as he loathed the idea, Plato remembered he had a mission to accomplish and had to break the silence. "Actually though, I was talking to Jemmy earlier today-"

There was a snort of laughter next to him. "No surprise there."

Plato gave Tumble a playful shove and continued, "_Anyways, _as I was saying... I was talking to Jemmy earlier today 'cause I was curious 'bout this queen I met." The copper and cream paused to see if Tumble had another witty comment to slip in. When the patched brown tom remained silent, curiosity written all over his face, Plato decided it was safe to continue. "The little chickadee didn't - well, she directed me to you."

A look of total shock took over Tumble's features, as he his smile broadened. "What kinda queen would I know? You, more than anyone, know that I am hopeless when it comes to the ladies."

Another laugh reverberated from deep in Plato's chest. "Definitely! I remember trying to give you tips and lessons before I just gave up on you."

Every muscle in Tumble's body tensed as if he was going to pounce Plato. However, after a quick glance at the larger tom, Tumble quickly thought the better of it. "So who is this queen anyways? And why would I know anything about her?"

"I wasn't so sure either, but Jemmy seemed pretty sure." Plato gave slight shrug of his shoulders. "Her name is Victoria."

With a sideways glance, Plato watched as Tumble's smile fell an infinitesimally small degree, though he tried his best to keep his countenance cool. "Victoria?"

"Yeah, Victoria. She's this pretty white queen-kit. Pure white, dances like an angel, doesn't seem to have too much to say..."

Tumble couldn't seem to look Plato even in the face. He could only stare almost blankly across the yard, lost in thought. "What do you want to know?" His voice was almost skeptical.

"Everything!" Plato said, excited that he found someone who would actually give him some kind of information. "Whatever you can teach me! No one wants to tell me anything! It's such a mystery..."

Quick chocolate eyes shot in Plato's direction. "You aren't thinking of chasing after her, are you?"

Plato was taken aback yet again this day. What was everyone's deal?! Was his queen really so special, so worth protecting? All he wanted to do was have a little fun. No one had cared before. And Plato had to admit, the more cats that warned him away from the queen, the more the challenge seemed to strike him. "I was just curious!" It technically wasn't a lie. "Jemmy mentioned that others don't know when she comes to the yard, that she's Bustopher's kitten, and I know that Misto is pretty protective of her..."

Tumble nodded sagely, taking in everything that Plato said. "There's not a lot to say and hers is a pretty sad story."

Plato was silent, hoping his avid attention would encourage Tumble to continue.

The smaller tom's brown eyes seemed to be lost in visions that Plato couldn't see. It was clear that Tumble's thoughts were running at a thousand miles a minute. Finally, after taking a moment to compose his thoughts, Tumble appeased Plato's curiosity. "She's an only kitten, now."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. She used to have an older brother. His name was William. William used to be Pouncie's best friend, that's how I knew him. Anyways, a few years ago, maybe about two or so, he died..."

Plato wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but this certainly wasn't it.

"Pouncival was too young to remember exactly what happened. He just knows he lost his best friend. I guess it's for the best, it was rather tragic. It seems he was struck by a car, though no one knows exactly what happened. He was barely a full year out of kittenhood..."

It truly was a depressing story, Plato couldn't deny that. And it wasn't that he didn't understand how this story could have affected Victoria. However, Plato knew cats who died or lost loved ones on the streets all the time. It hurt, and it had to especially hurt those in such a sheltered community like this, but that didn't explain why her visits were secret or why everyone was so protective.

Almost as if Tumble was hearing Plato's thoughts, he continued. "It seemed to really hit Victoria hard. She was there when it happened, just a kit at the time."

As much as he hated the idea, Plato had to interrupt, "I thought you said-"

"That no one knew what happened? I did. Right after...everything... happened, the poor kitten just shut down. I never saw her, she was always at her house, but I heard the stories, that she was practically a ghost. Only eating and breathing, just what was needed to survive (I definitely wouldn't call it being alive). It took about two weeks until she started interacting with the outside world, and she refused to talk about the accident. If anything like it was even mentioned, she'd either shutdown or lash out."

Plato kept his silence, for once completely wrapped in contemplation. As much as this challenge was tempting to him, perhaps it wouldn't be best to pursue Victoria anymore.

"They tried bringing her to the yard after she began to appear better. However, it didn't take long for her to start having...'episodes'. She would get increasingly angry and lash out at cats. They stopped her from coming around once it became too much. I didn't know she had started coming again..."

"I don't think anyone knew she was coming yesterday. I kinda just...found her I guess." The humor that usually accompanied Plato's every word was gone.

Tumble continued to stare out across the piles. It was as if he wasn't even present, he had just recited some words but mentally checked out.

"Well, I guess that was more than what I was expecting. Thanks...and sorry for the topic, I guess." Plato's felt as if his paws couldn't take him away fast enough.

Tumble provided a simple nod, allowing Plato to leave without a word.

Contemplation seemed to shroud Plato's thoughts, creating a kind of tunnel vision as he picked his way towards his den. Every thought imaginable seemed to flit through his head, but flee before his mind could fully grasp the idea and fully understand it. Plato had never had to confront queens that could be sensitive. He never had to think about the ramifications of his reputation and attitude. It was weird to stop. His wish had been for something different, but he didn't think that _he_ would have to be different...

Suddenly, his astute ears and keen eyes saw something careening from some place off to his left heading directly for his head. He had to thank the Everlasting Cat for his quick reflexes as he quickly bent backwards to dodge the projectile. Plato couldn't keep from staring at the heavy lamp that cracked as it hit the pile.

"Plato!" The voice was a deadly warning and yet familiar. "I know what you've been up to."

Plato flattened his ears, ready for a fight, as he turned to face an angry Mistoffelees.

**A/N: Sorry they keep getting longer. I really am bad at that when it comes to writing chapters. I think the next ones will be shorter like the previous chapter. Hope you don't mind. Please, please, please, let me know what you thought. Review, private message, anonymous review… I don't care. I appreciate it all! Thanks again!**


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